


Lipgloss

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex, boys in make up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: He pins Merlin to the bed, sits in his lap, and his hands are careful as he drags the brush over sharp jaws and firm brows. He doesn’t know who swallows harder when he paints Merlin’s cheeks pink, but he’s the one carefully tracing each lash this time so that they are long and dark and spidery, framing blue eyes. Not at all the mess they were before.





	Lipgloss

 

Arthur starts the whole thing. Not intentionally, or consciously. He just sees the tube lurking on the rack when he’s buying his groceries and he grabs it. He’s curious, alright? The packaging is bright with strawberries and bananas printed on shimmery paper.  _ It’s on sale,  _ is how he justifies the impulse buy.  _ Just a few coins. _

Merlin laughs when he fishes the tube out from where it is buried among deli meat and mustard.

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin. Loads of guys wear chapstick.”

Merlin snorts. “But this is lipgloss.”

Arthur flushes, high in his cheek and all down his neck, and snatched the tube back. “Well I’m not asking  _ you  _ to wear it, Merlin.”

Merlin gets this look in his eyes, this gleam that coils around Arthur’s ribs and settled low in his gut, a brilliant blue heat that’s cold as it burns.

“And if I said yes?”

Arthur swallows around the cotton in his throat. “You don’t like banana.”

Merlin smirks, lips curling in the corners sharp and feral. He plucks the tube back from Arthur’s hand and breaks the seal, pulling the wand out and studying the red substance.

He hands it to Arthur. “Apply it.”

Arthur’s hands shake, small tremors that cause fissures in his soul as he carefully, so carefully, paints Merlin’s lip. He tries to steady his hands as he traces the high curves of Merlin’s upper lips, the deep swell of his lower lip.

They’re so red, so full, when he finishes that Arthur is hard in his pants and they haven’t even kissed. So he does, leans down and swipes his tongue against the bitter, sticky liquid.

He buys mascara next. He doesn’t say anything. Just leaves it on the counter for Merlin to find. When he does, Merlin applies it himself, slightly clumpy and far too heavy, so that his lids remain half raised and his lashes leave inky trails on his cheeks.

They fuck then, smearing red gloss and black mascara on the pillow cases. Arthur keeps Merlin on his back so that he can stare at the tightly clench eyes, watch the pitch black lashes blur together and white teeth draw streaks through the gloss.

Arthur buys foundation and blush from a beautiful blonde in the mall, and he convinced her he wants to learn to apply it  _ for the sake of my niece. Can’t be a good uncle if my face isn’t pretty for tea parties. _

She tells him the shade is too light but he’s insistent.

He pins Merlin to the bed, sits in his lap, and his hands are careful as he drags the brush over sharp jaws and firm brows. He doesn’t know who swallows harder when he paints Merlin’s cheeks pink, but he’s the one carefully tracing each lash this time so that they are long and dark and spidery, framing blue eyes. Not at all the mess they were before.

Arthur curses himself in that moment, for not going with the dark eye shadow. He can just see it, the Smokey stare as Merlin ruts into him with sharp, bruising thrust and he vows, against strawberry banana flavored lips that  _ I’ll get it right next time, Merls. _

Merlin doesn’t answer, just furrows his brows and thrust hard, harder until Arthur is crying out from just this side of almost painful in the best way and Merlin greedily swallows the sounds.

Merlin goes with him to pick out the dark purple shadow. 

 


End file.
